


To the Victor Go the Spoils

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angry Pining, Bit smutty, Chuck isn't happy about this revelation, Cussing, M/M, Raleigh isn't a puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5435678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick little two-parter prompted by <a href="http://gutterballgt.tumblr.com/post/135283370777/gutterballgt-dammit-murphyhatesme-you-made">this picture on tumblr</a>. I blame <a href="http://murphyhatesme.tumblr.com/">murphyhatesme</a>.</p><p>After a year spent back "home" in Australia, Chuck returns to the Hong Kong shatterdome to find that Raleigh has inexplicably grown his hair out. Like, stupid-long. And grown a beard. He's not quite sure what to make of it until Raleigh snipes at him and he realizes bearded, long-haired Raleigh takes zero shit, and that is hot as hell.</p><p>Unfortunately, it also makes getting into bearded, long-haired Raleigh's pants a little more difficult than he imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To the Victor...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizlybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizlybear/gifts).



A year was a fucking long time. If someone had told Chuck Hansen that a year ago, he’d have laughed in their face. The ten prior years of his life had each gone like a poppy-hopped wallaby in an open field. In the blink of an eye, he’d gone from a naive ten-year-old to a jaded asshole of a twenty-one-year-old.

But after Pitfall, Herc had insisted everyone take a goddamn well-deserved break and had dragged Chuck back to Mother Australia so they could both heal. Physically as well as mentally and emotionally.

Chuck had never been so bored in his life.

A year was an eternity. How the hell did time pass without the anticipatory dread of yet another kaiju attack? Without constant maintenance and repair on Striker? Without training, without strategy meetings, without occasional drivesuit refittings as he grew out of mold after mold?

But that shit was over now, and he strode into the Hong Kong shatterdome with his head up and a smirk on his face because this? This was home. This was activity. This was--

Who the fuck was that?

Blinking, he stared at the biker-looking douchebag strolling up to him. That was Raleigh Fucking Becket’s stupid holding-up-his-pants, lead-with-his-dick saunter, but that was not Raleigh Fucking Becket’s earnest puppy face and Captain America hair.

“Oi, what the fuck, Ray?”

The words were out before he could even think to stop them, but he made no attempt to take them back. Becket, who had been grinning under a truly appalling amount of facial hair, immediately frowned in response.

“That’s one hell of a greeting, Chuck.”

“Seriously, mate. What the fuck?”

The frown deepened, and Chuck was tempted to feel a little bad. He hadn’t seen the bloke in a year, and while they hadn’t exactly been besties when they went their separate ways, they’d come a good long way since that fateful shit-talking in the mess hall the day Becket arrived.

Sighing, the poor sod shook his head. “I don’t know why I thought a year away would make you less of a dick.”

“Oi!” Though he couldn’t really argue. “You look like a fucking hobo, Becket! You been on the streets all year? No access to scissors or a fucking razor?”

Becket blinked. “I... what? You’re pissed off at my hair, of all things?”

Well... _pissed off_ was a strong phrase. More... _distracted by_. There was just so goddamn _much_ of it. It hung to his shoulders, for fuck’s sake.

Backpedaling, Chuck crossed his arms and tried to stop scowling. “Confused, not pissed, mate. I mean... the fuck? Is this what you usually look like when you’re not saving the world?”

Still frowning, Becket grunted. “Yes, Chuck. This is what I look like when I’m not starving to death on the Wall and my hair actually fucking grows.”

_Or being the clean-cut poster child for the jaeger program,_ Chuck mentally added. Because the all-American Becket brothers had been as clean-cut and apple pie-ish as they came.

Irritated by the pointless memory, he shrugged it off. “Your hair is a goddamn disgrace, Ray. Cut it, or I will.”

His eyes widened. Since when did he think he had any say in what Becket did or didn’t do with his fucking hair? And why did the image of combing his fingers through all that insane length as he snipped away at it look so damn good in his mind?

Either Becket saw some of the intent on Chuck’s face or took the threat seriously, because he closed down completely, crossing his arms, the fabric of his stupid grey hoodie stretching over the taut muscle there.

“I lose an inch, you lose a finger.”

Okay, that should not send a wash of heat through him. Backtracking again, Chuck tried to save face.

“At least shave, dammit.”

Becket’s eyes narrowed further. “I lose my beard, you lose your dick.”

And just like that, Chuck never wanted the bastard to cut his hair or shave again because... _fuck_. Raleigh Becket with long hair and a beard took no shit from anybody, and it turned Chuck on like nothing in the whole fucking world.

Swallowing hard against the unexpected swell of pure, old-fashioned lust, he straightened his shoulders and met the bloke’s glare with one of his own. “You drive a hard bargain, Becket.”

Those narrow eyes searched Chuck’s own for a long moment before the jackass smirked. Shit. He _knew_.

Leaning close, Raleigh Fucking Becket took Chuck in from boots to bedhead, then smirked again. “You ever wanna know exactly how hard a bargain I drive, just say the word.”

The voice was low and rumbling, the bloke close enough that Chuck felt the heat of those words on his face. His heartrate doubled and his fists and jaw clenched.

Becket, the gorgeous wanker, turned and walked away.

Chuck was no one’s idea of a saint. He watched. With _interest_.

Because a year _away_ was a long damn time, yes, but Chuck was pretty sure the next year _in proximity_ would damn near fly.


	2. ...Go the Spoils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because murphyhatesme wanted more. I aim to please. *wink*

Raleigh Becket, the fucking wanker, was just fucking with him now.

Chuck stared after the bloke -- he wasn't too proud to admit he was admiring the view -- with a roiling mixture of irritation and lust. Ever since he'd made the admittedly ill-advised demand that Becket cut his stupid hair, the rotten bastard had gone out of his way to flaunt the ridiculous length every chance he got. And, weirdly enough, there were a bloody lot of chances, since it seemed Chuck couldn't walk from here to three feet from there these days without damn near tripping into the gorgeous prick.

Stubby ponytails. Stupid man-buns. Or just a ludicrous cascade of cornsilk blonde the bloke hid those baby blues behind that made Chuck want to get two big fistfuls of it and....

Well, that was the problem. He knew damn good and well what he wanted to do with two fistfuls of Raleigh Becket. And Raleigh Fucking Becket knew it, too.

Hence the irritation. The fucker was playing hard to get.

And Chuck hated to admit it, but all the fuckery just made him want the bastard _more_.

Growling and ignoring the stirring in his trousers, he stalked off toward the kwoon to work out some of this frustration. He needed to beat the shit out of someone, then take a cold shower. Maybe then he'd be able to figure out what the hell he needed to do to get Becket's attention.

Did the silly sod want to be wooed? Chuck had absolutely no idea how to go about that. He'd never been the wine and roses type, and he didn't see that changing any time soon. Being an annoying prick obviously hadn't worked. Nor had a tentative sense of comradery, although Chuck hadn't actually known he was interested when they had that working for them.

As he picked up a bo staff and gave it a twirl in preparation for running a few of his tougher katas to warm up, he wondered if chocolate would do the trick. Everybody like chocolate, right? The Russians could get just about anything if the price was right.

"You are trying too hard."

The bo slipped in his hand, his form thrown off with surprise, and the tip cracked off his kneecap. "Oi, fuck!" Rubbing the spot irritably, he glared at Mori, who had snuck in with her usual ninja silence. "You _are_ capable of making noise, ya know. I've heard you do it."

A tiny smile came and went like a ripple across a deep, still pond. "It's more fun this way."

He snorted, well aware that he'd have one hell of a bruise later, thanks to the intensity he'd thrown into the aborted attack move. His knee throbbed dully. "I knew it all along. Pentecost thought you were so sweet and innocent, but I always knew better."

Mako neither confirmed nor denied the statement. "Raleigh doesn't want _things_ , Chuck."

She also had the worst habit of sticking doggedly to a subject, despite all attempts to turn conversations to safer avenues. Scowling, Chuck leaned on his bo and stared down at his bare feet.

"I don't care what that silly wanker wants."

She scoffed. Audibly. That, if nothing else, got Chuck's attention away from the fascinating view of the mat at his feet.

"He doesn't want to be wooed, and he doesn't want to be flattered. He has no use for bravado or arrogance."

Gritting his teeth, he eyed the deceptively small woman staring at him so fixedly. "Then what the fuck _does_ he want?"

Oops. He didn't mean to... shit. It was out, now. No getting out of it.

Sighing, he lowered his gaze again. What did he have to offer but flattery and bravado and arrogance?

"He'll tell you when he wants you to know."

He knew she was gone without having to look up, though, as usual, she made no sound as she left. Muttering to himself about cryptic bullshit and the overly-complicated and way-too-fucking-mysterious mating rituals of a certain brain-damaged Alaskan bombshell, he went right back into his routine and stubbornly ignored the warning twinges from his knee.

Some time later, when he'd worked up a good sweat, another bo intercepted his own in a textbook block, and Chuck shook off his focus to stare at the interloper. Becket, of course. Who else?

The bloke had his stupid hair hauled back into a loose tail, a few strands already escaping. He stood there in a plain white singlet and those stupid blue tech trousers, barefoot and with his dogtags tucked into his shirt, and somehow, he was still fucking gorgeous. The rotten bastard wasn't smiling, but a hint of amusement lingered around those disgustingly pretty blue eyes.

Fuck him for being amused when Chuck was pissed off and confused.

Practically growling, he jerked his bo away and stood back a pace. "What the fuck do you want from me, Ray?"

Blue eyes narrowed, and the bloke threw a quick series of attacks that Chuck picked off with relative ease. They were... feel-him-out shots, not actual attacks. Becket apparently wanted to play. Well, fuck that.

"Sod off, ya wanker. I got more important things to do than--"

The red of the bo's painted wooden surface came to a halt not a centimeter from Chuck's eye. It was close enough that, when he blinked in astonishment because he hadn't even seen the attack coming, his eyelashes brushed the red filling up his vision.

The bo lowered an inch, just enough that Chuck could see Becket's tight, focused expression.

"I don't roll over for just anyone, Hansen." The bloke's jaw tensed. "You want a shot at me, you have to earn it."

Becket wanted... a fight? Blinking, Chuck could only stare.

"You get four on me, you get me any way you want me. I get four on you, you quit posturing like a goddamn kid and _leave me alone_."

Barely even thinking of the motion, Chuck flipped his bo up in a quick strike that Becket effortlessly picked off. Smirking, the rotten bastard didn't even bother falling into a defensive stance.

Posturing like a goddamn kid. Had... was that what he'd been doing?

Gritting his teeth, Chuck determinedly didn't let his mind flash back to their one other fight in the hallway outside Pentecost's office. This one wouldn't end up like that, with him pinned and left with a choice between dislocating his shoulder to escape or... surrendering.

Fuck that. If Raleigh Fucking Becket wanted a fight for the right to his ass, Chuck was by God gonna give it to him.

Deliberately letting out a slow, deep breath and settling every muscle on his frame, Chuck fell into his focus and shoved everything else away. He knew everyone thought he was a hothead with little strategy and less patience who relied on brute strength, but they'd never seen him and his old man go at it on the mats. When he wasn't pissed off and swinging away, Chuck Hansen was a deadly fighter who had even taken down Mori twice.

And he wanted this one. God, how he fucking wanted this one.

So he settled, and when Becket tilted his head with... surprise?... at the change in his stance, Chuck took the opportunity. In three moves -- a calculated lunge, a grab and twist, and a flick of his bo -- he had the bloke in a chokehold with his bo over Becket's throat.

"One for me."

He didn't allow himself to be distracted by the solid weight of Becket's supremely toned body against his. As soon as the bloke acknowledged the point, Chuck released him and settled into a ready stance. Becket turned and gave him a single nod and a serious look.

The fight was well and truly on.

They came together in a flurry of red, their bos cracking off each other as each attack was picked off or redirected. Chuck fell into the give and take, a small part of him wondering if Becket hadn't been holding back all this time. The bloke was _good_. No, _amazing_.

As the round drew out, he couldn't help but wonder if they might have been Drift compatible. Maybe not at first, but now...?

Unfortunately, the thought shifted his focus, and the tip of Becket's bo prodded him in the throat just under his chin, tilting his head up. It didn't hurt, exactly -- the bloke had an insane amount of control -- but the point was valid.

"One-one," Becket said, his voice low and completely absent of taunting.

Chuck nodded as best he could with his head shoved back, and Becket backed off. Squaring up, he forced his attention to remain on the matter at hand. If he wanted to get in the gorgeous bastard's trousers, he had to focus.

Although... that wasn't all he wanted. If he was honest, he wanted the bloke's respect, too. The "posturing like a goddamn kid" accusation stung. Yeah, he wanted to fuck that pretty piece of ass, but... he also wanted another nod of respect. Because that's what it had been -- Becket acknowledging that, yes, Chuck did have skill, not just bravado.

He wanted _that_. He wanted to get laid, yes, but he also wanted Raleigh to look at him like that again.

Becket led this time, a similar offense to the one he'd used in his trials with Mori, but Chuck had been watching closely and countered effectively until he maneuvered in close enough to sock his shoulder in under Becket's and shove that big body off-balance. When he felt the bloke go, he tucked his bo back behind the poor sod's knee and pulled. Landing hard on his back, Becket started to roll away until he realized Chuck's bo was steady at his throat.

Chuck grinned. "Two-one."

Another nod as the bloke got to his feet. "So you _were_ actually watching."

His eyebrows rose. "Oi?"

"When I sparred with Mako." Becket rolled his shoulders, more hair spilling out of the loose tail and falling in his face. "I thought you were just there to make sure I wasn't Drift compatible with anyone."

Still grinning, though he was already forcing his mind to the next exchange, Chuck shrugged. "I make it a point to never miss Mori in a match."

At that, the bloke lit up like Christmas, and Chuck couldn't help but respond to that kind of silent praise like a plant turning toward the sunshine. Raleigh Becket was goddamn beautiful when he smiled like that.

The next round was almost playful, for all that Chuck took it as deadly serious as he had the others, and when his bo tucked between Becket's legs and flipped the bloke ass over tea kettle, he even broke his definitive point to reach out and catch the poor sod. No sense damaging the goods, after all.

Of course, Becket wasn't a cheater. "Three-one. Dammit."

This time, Chuck smirked.

The bloke came roaring back, though, and in two quick exchanges, they were tied at three, their bos crossed over Chuck's throat, Becket panting down into Chuck's face. Raleigh was fucking gorgeous from so close, his face slightly flushed from exertion and highlighted with a thin sheen of sweat, his stupid hair sticking here and there to his forehead and neck. The band had long since fallen out, leaving the whole mess unimpeded, and Chuck wanted more than anything to grab a big handful of that gleaming cornsilk and pull the bloke's head in close for a kiss.

But he hadn't won yet. And his knee hurt like a bitch.

That low voice almost hoarse, Becket stated the obvious as he backed off. "Last point."

He _wanted_ it. Chuck goddamn wanted to _win_ this one. Yes, he wanted that tantalizing promise of having Raleigh any way he wanted him. Yes, he wanted Becket to look at him with respect. He wanted all of that and more.

Falling back into his focus and shoving away any thoughts about what Becket's skin would taste like under that light sheen of sweat, Chuck dredged up an old memory of his only real spar with his uncle. Herc didn't like to talk about Uncle Scott. Hell, he didn't even like to think about him.

But Chuck still had fond memories, and one of those was when Uncle Scott taught him a few moves that could put even Herc on his back.

Becket led, still coasting on the high of two quick points, but Chuck let him have the momentum for the moment. Scott's strategy had always been to lie in wait, to be patient for the opportune moment. Sometimes, that got the sod into trouble, but during a fight, it was an invaluable skill.

And just when Chuck's knee began to ache in earnest, he saw it. The bloke fell back into an earlier routine that had earned him that second point. Chuck leaned back out of range for the swipe, leapt over the low cross -- his knee gave out a warning twinge as he touched down -- and... there it was. For just a second, Becket's back was exposed as he switched momentum to swing into a backhand chop.

Before that big, gorgeous body could make the switch, Chuck stepped into the swing, ducked down under Becket's right arm, and slung his own left arm back across the broad chest. Then, he planted his bad knee forward and, ignoring its howl of distress, he shoved them both back with all his strength. Off-balance from his attempt to reverse his momentum, Becket could do nothing but shout and flail as they collasped to the floor, Raleigh on the bottom and Chuck partially landing on him.

They both hit hard on their backs, but Chuck was just cushioned enough that he didn't lose his breath and quickly spun to straddle his prey and lay his bo against the exposed throat.

They froze, staring at each other, panting with exertion.

It was the longest moment of Chuck's life. Longer than the year spent in Australia. Longer than his whole life before this.

And before the bloke could acknowledge the point, Chuck leaned down and kissed him hard, letting out all the adrenaline the fight had worked up and all the pent-up frustration and desire of the past weeks. And, glory be, but Raleigh answered in kind, all teeth and tongue with a groan deep in his chest.

God, but that body was damp silk and polished marble under his hands. The singlet disappeared off to one side, their bos already tossed God only knew where, and Chuck left off that heated, tempting mouth to drag his own down the taut line of Raleigh's straining throat. He didn't even mind the beard.

When he reached the broad expanse of that epic chest, he let his hands wander further south to fumble with the stupid, oversized belt keeping him from his ultimate goal. Raleigh threaded his fingers up into Chuck's hair, and he wanted to laugh at the irony. Here, he'd been lusting after the bloke's goldilocks for weeks, and it was Becket getting two fistfuls of hair first.

Whatever. He'd take what he could get. Especially when the stupid belt finally gave up the fight and fell open so he could get at the buttons beneath. Nipping here and there at the bloke's flushed chest, he finally flicked his tongue at a pebbled nipple as the damn overly-complex fly fell open and he finally got a hand on Raleigh's dick.

Oh, Jesus. It was already hard and hot, thick as hell as he gave it a tight, lingering stroke.

The gorgeous bastard lost his breath on what could have been Chuck's name if there were any strength behind it, and those narrow, cut hips arched up into Chuck's touch. Murmuring against Becket's heaving chest, Chuck stroked again, his own cock throbbing for mercy in his trousers. He made no attempt to ease his tension, though, using his free hand to tilt Raleigh's jaw at the perfect angle for a spectacularly filthy kiss.

Raleigh whimpered. _Whimpered_.

Shuddering a moan, Chuck tightened his grip and thrust his tongue down the bloke's throat. Stroking hard with the slight sweat they'd worked up between them easing the way, he couldn't resist rutting his aching cock against Raleigh's thick thigh. God, he needed more. So much more.

Fuck, he couldn't do even half the things he wanted to do to Becket's glorious body in the goddamn kwoon. They couldn't even get completely naked for fear of someone walking in on them. He was already pushing his luck as it was, but God help the fucking imbecile who interrupted him now that he had two hands on what he wanted.

Panting down into Raleigh's open mouth, he tried to speak. "Fuck, Raleigh... I need... fuck, mate, you gotta come so I can... ah, _fuck_... so I can drag you to my goddamn bunk and... fucking... _ruin you_."

Some sort of vocalization got caught in the poor bloke's throat as that gorgeous body locked up, the grip on Chuck's hair almost tight enough to snatch him bald. He sucked hard on Raleigh's full lower lip as the pretty bastard came and came _hard_. Worse, that thick thigh ground up into his own hard-on mercilessly, and for a heart-stopping eternity, Chuck hovered on the edge of coming himself.

More than half of him wanted to. _Needed_ to. The hot slick feeling of Raleigh's come all over his fist as he continued to stroke -- though much more gently as the bloke wound down -- edged him ever closer to that glorious ledge, and he wanted to fall over so bad. His cock ached with the need to just _let go_.

But he wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. And yes, he absolutely could come more than once in a relatively short period of time because he was young and strong and virile as hell, but this... this was potentially a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he'd be damned if he wasted it by coming in his pants like a fucking horny teenager.

Leaning his forehead on the bloke's warm, slightly sweaty chest, he lifted his hips away from that tormenting thigh and wrestled his body back to his will. Raleigh's heart thundered away against his skin, his breath hitching as Chuck gave him one last, lingering caress, then let him go to brace his hand on the floor, not caring about the mess.

After a long moment, Becket's fingers loosened from Chuck's hair and stroked down to his back, slipping under his t-shirt and urging him to lie down on top of him. Huffing a breathless laugh, Chuck shook his head.

"Not yet, mate. Touch you right now, and I'll come in my trousers."

The cheating bastard let out a low, throaty chuckle that sent a twist of heat through Chuck's gut. _So_ not fair. Worse, the bloke didn't stop pulling at him and even sunk so low as to wrap one leg up over his hip to tug him down.

"Fuck, Raleigh--"

"I'm cold."

Despite himself, he snorted and settled cautiously against all that heated muscle. Thankfully, though his dick throbbed insistently, it didn't go off. Yet.

Of course, he'd just ruined his shirt, but he honestly did not care.

"No, you're not."

"Hm. Not now, anyway."

Huffing into the silly sod's neck, he gave into at least one of his urges and threaded his clean hand up into that stupidly pretty mess of hair. Just as he'd imagined, it felt like sun-warmed cornsilk wrapped around his fingers.

He still wasn't sure about the beard, though. It tickled his face as he tried to nuzzle close.

"Never took you for a sap, mate."

Another low chuckle thrummed against Chuck's lips this time. "I dunno about you, but I need to snuggle after orgasm. Is that a dealbreaker?"

Feeling almost as muzzy as if he'd come himself, Chuck grinned, glad his face was hidden. "I can live with it." The grin faded almost as quickly as it came, though. "Oi, Raleigh?"

"Hm?"

Frowning now and hoping he wasn't about to ruin the mood, he pulled away just enough to lean on an elbow and get a good look at the bloke's face. "Why'd you make me fight you?"

That smooth forehead creased, but it seemed the mood wasn't entirely lost, as Becket kept stroking his hands up and down Chuck's back under his damn t-shirt. "I just... needed to know."

His eyebrows rose.

Raleigh swallowed and started to look away, then seemed to make himself meet Chuck's gaze. "If you really wanted me or were just bored and looking for an easy fuck." His jaw tightened. "I'm _no one's_ easy fuck."

Part of him wanted to tense up, but he was done posturing like a goddamn kid. So, he just kept his gaze steady and slowly shook his head. "No. You'd never be that."

Blue eyes narrowed, but after a long, piercing look, Raleigh relaxed and sighed out a deep breath. Then, the gorgeous bastard grinned. The expression hit Chuck like a punch to the gut, and his neglected cock twitched its appreciation.

"So... I guess the only real question left is... how do you want me?"

That had been the deal. Chuck got his four points, so he got Raleigh however he wanted. Fighting his own grin, he ducked his head a bit and said the first thing that popped into his mind, no matter how stupid it sounded even as he said it.

"How about... all the time for as long as you'll have me?"

Because _that_ was what he wanted. Even as he fought, he knew it wasn't just to win, just to get laid, just to earn the bloke's respect. What he really wanted was... just Raleigh. However he could have him for as long as he could.

To his unholy delight, Raleigh Fucking Becket _blushed_. Apparently, he'd said something right for a change.

Grumbling, the blushing sod shoved at him until Chuck obligingly hauled himself up and away, sitting back on his heels and conveniently trapping Becket's legs.

"Now who's a fucking sap?"

Chuck smirked. "Never said I didn't like it."

Becket grinned wryly and sat up, legs still firmly under Chuck's weight. "True enough." He shrugged, the blush deepening. "I'm surprisingly okay with it myself."

Chuckling, he finally stood up completely and reached down to give the bloke a hand up. If he accidentally pulled a little too hard so that gorgeous body crashed into his own, well... oops.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, yeah? I promised to take you back to my bunk and fucking ruin you." His heart kicked up a step as Raleigh's eyes darkened. "And I always keep my promises, mate."

Voice low and rumbling, Raleigh pressed close enough that Chuck felt his lips move as he spoke. "You fucking _better_."

Well. Chuck Hansen was never one to back down from a challenge.

**THE END**


End file.
